


ashes to ashes

by badgerspride



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-10-20 19:39:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17628434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badgerspride/pseuds/badgerspride
Summary: Ginny had a thousand memories, but none of them belonged to her. Post CoS.





	ashes to ashes

**Author’s Note:** This was made purely because Ginny Weasley is a queen, but also her possession is so brushed aside and I had this idea and bam, here we are! Please review if you like!

* * *

 

 

 

She could hear hissing. It was dark in the corridor, and she could hear it moving. Her eyes were glued shut, too afraid to see it.

 

 

 

_“Blood,” it hissed. “Blood!”_

 

 

 

She shook her heard, internally begging for it to stop, flinching when he touched her face, crouching down beside her. Was he really beside her, or was it another trick of his?

 

 

 

“C’mon, pet, give it a taste. For me,” he purred. Her body was no longer her own as she moved down the long, cold path. 

 

Her eyes were closed. 

 

 

Or maybe they were open. 

 

Maybe she had shielded herself inside her mind from the horror. 

 

Lately, that had been the only way to escape him: a small piece of her mind where he couldn’t touch, where she’d hide like a coward, escaping all she did.

 

All that he made her do.

 

She could hear water. The hissing grew louder and louder. It desperately wanted to kill, she didn’t need to be a parseltongue to know that.

 

He was beside her, ghosting her steps. Maybe he never truly left her. Not even now…

 

_“That’s it, darling. Give it a taste. It only wants one.”_

 

 

 

Ginny awoke, screaming and thrashing. The dream (or memory) dissipatingand she was in her dark room, tangled in her sheets as she tried to claw them off of herself.

 

 

 

There was a crash, a door flinging open, and her mother’s arms embracing her.

 

 

 

For now, Ginny Weasley was safe. Just barely.

 

 

 

Her parents insisted she sleep with them. She denied it at first. She wasn’t a baby, and her brothers would make fun of her. When it’d happen, she could see that they never wanted to mock her for being too scared to sleep alone.

 

 

 

Percy was ashamed when he’d see her come down the stairs, Fred and George would tease Ron to cheer her up, and Ron looked beside himself with worry. He was scared, but he hadn’t even seen her the way Harry had. She hadn’t been to the other side, but she knew how it felt. She’d waited alone, in the dark, knowing death was coming to take her by the hand.

 

 

 

She didn’t tell anyone this. It was her’s to keep, just like the memories of the chamber and how he was always beside her, invisible to the world.

* * *

** :+: **

* * *

 

Ginny stood in her bathroom, brushing her teeth when the memory overtook her. Or maybe it wasn’t a memory.

 

She felt his hands wrap around her the way they always had. 

 

The first time, she had been alone in her dorm, crying when she found feathers and dead roosters under her covers. She had covered her face, curling herself into the corner and crying because her mind felt blank.

 

She had been in charms. That was her last memory, was her second class of the day, and it wasn’t a one-off occurrence. She had been losing time a lot. Waking up in the morning, unsure of how she’d gotten there and what had been done, but this…

 

“Ginevra, you’re fine,” he whispered and she flinched. 

 

_He’s not real. It’s a diary, he’s…_

 

He touched her face, and she could see a wisp of a boy about Percy’s age standing before her. He was handsome, a type of person you’d expect to be royal and she felt her lip tremble as she froze, too afraid to move.

 

“You’re not real,” she whispered, moving away from his hand that reached for her face, brushing away red strands and he smiled.

 

“No,” he agreed. “But soon.” 

 

Soon… She didn't know what it meant and his eyes locked her’s. “Get rid of those,” he said, waving towards the roosters. “We have something else a little more important to get done.”

 

She stood, her knees shaking. She didn’t know why she was standing, but she knew where she was going to go… Her hands shook and he was behind her, towering over her, his presence stronger as he bent down and whispered in her ear, “Go.”

 

Ginny gasped, looking in the mirror, screaming because she thought she saw him here. Now! Turning, there was nothing.

 

She flung the curtains aside as the door opened, thinking it was another trick as Ron came in. “Ginny? Ginny!”

 

Ginny didn’t even hear him as she searched frantically and he grabbed her shoulders. “Ginny, it’s okay!” he shook her gently and she looked at him, her eyes red and frightened as he hugged her. “You’re safe now.”

 

Safe… yes, she was safe. Her mind was her’s again.

 

Yet, it refused to let go - to believe that he was gone.

 

* * *

**:+:**

* * *

 

He left pieces of himself inside her. Not a soul, not anything a person could see or touch, but she’d changed. The small ways shocked her. She wasn’t as trusting or chatty - everyone was analyzed in a way she never had before.

 

He broke that childlike wonder, that belief that people were good. His being twisted her mind, made her fear the world like she never knew to before. Percy commented on it one day out of the blue, when he thought she wasn’t around.

 

“She’s just not as talkative anymore,” he said, sounding almost sad. She was hiding behind the door frame, holding her mug of tea as her brothers sat at the back of the house.

 

Fred made a noise, like he wanted to snort and call him a git, she could almost hear the eye roll but his heart wasn’t in it. 

 

“Of course she’s changed…” It was so serious, so unFred like that she had to hold back a gasp. “I can’t imagine what she went through, Perce…”

 

It was quiet, and then Ron said, “I can’t believe we let it happen to her.”

 

Ginny’s lip trembled, her cheeks wet and she turned away, unable to face them.

* * *

 

**:+:**

* * *

 

She had thought her mother had bought it for her. It was clearly second hand, even engraved, but blank. Mrs Weasley had worried about her so much, and Ginny found it endearing.

 

She’d always wanted a diary - a real diary, but there was always other things she wanted more and couldn’t ration asking for something as silly as a diary. When she dipped her quill and began to write, she was excited.

 

The first entry was going to be about Harry. She was so upset that she could do nothing but gawk at him, and as she went to dip her quill into her ink well, she froze. The words were absorbing into the paper and she flipped the page, seeing clean, crisp pages throughout the book, and when she let them fall back, there was a response.

 

_So who is ‘Tom Riddle’? Is it like a joke diary?_

 

Maybe the twins gave it to her for a laugh, and she almost couldn’t be mad at them, if not a bit disappointed. But it wasn’t a joke.

 

_Think of me as a friend you can carry in your pocket._

 

So she did. And she paid the price.

* * *

 

**:+:**

* * *

 

She swore he revealed things to her. In bits and pieces she’d remember, when she was in the dark, when the shadows became monsters - all of them looked like him.

 

Ginny could remember feelings, flashes, moments of high emotion, but none belong to her.

 

Myrtle’s death was what scared her the most, if she were honest. Ginny could still feel the unfiltered height of joy, as if the world was his for the taking. She remembered that feeling of something being torn in two, how he reached inside and grasped it from himself… 

 

Tossing and turning, she tried to erase these feelings. They weren’t her’s, she didn’t want to know, and she certainly didn’t want to remember them.

* * *

**:+:**

* * *

 

Tom loved death… He was Voldemort, so obviously…

 

It was strange, knowing his face. In the past, You-Know-Who was nothing more than a fairytale she and her brother’s feared. Those who’d been born were too young to understand, and she had been born in the aftermath. Putting a face to the name, putting a before to the after, it scared her.

 

She knew Tom. Even if he lied to her, manipulated her, she knew him. It was hard to tell if he had let her see things, or if the bond had been too strong. Maybe _she’d_ been too strong for him.

 

Hadn’t her mother always said she was fiercely determined? Maybe Molly Weasley had been right, and maybe, just maybe…

 

It wasn’t really possible.

 

But, then again, neither was a baby defeating a wizard, let alone a powerful one…

 

She had seen into his mind, his soul. He’d shared this body with her, been inside her mind to warp it to his will, and with that had to of been a door for her to sneak in. Curiosity did kill the cat, and Ginny wondered if maybe, just maybe…

* * *

**:+:**

* * *

 

In the night she could hear screams, her own, sometimes. They’d rattle the house and cause time to stand still, others would belong to others. She’d see them, as if it was by her hand that they screamed, but it wasn’t. With just a turn of her head, she’d see him as a boy, as the Tom she knew. Sometimes, the screams belonged to him.

 

_“You sold your soul!”_ She had accused him once, a mistake, really. It had been a rough few days for her. With the castle on lock down, with Hermione Granger being petrified, that was it. She was done for, and maybe she’d be lucky to get a short sentence to Azkaban if the dementors didn’t kiss her first. 

 

She had seen into his soul - what was left of it. Tattered, broken, and marred by death and dark magic - there was nothing there to even see, and she could feel him curling inside her, like a snake readying it’s attack.

 

Ginny didn’t remember that day after she tried to tell Harry and Ron about the diary, about him. Ginny didn’t remember much of anything at all…

* * *

**:+:**

* * *

 

_“You can’t tell Fred and George, Ginny, I’m begging you!”_ Percy had said that night, cornering her at the small table far away from the fire where she was pouring over a book that she immediately tried to hide. She was looking into what Tom was, what this diary was, and she looked at her brother with panicked eyes.

 

_“What?”_

 

_“I know you saw me, and you can’t tell them. Please, I swear, I’ll do anything - give you anything.”_

 

Ginny blinked. She was scared, not because her pompous and proud older brother was basically groveling at her feet, but because she had no idea why. She’d seen something? But what? She didn’t remember and her eyes welled. _“I… I…”_

 

_There’s something wrong with me,_ she’d thought that night as she paced the bathroom in her door, afraid to look at her reflection, knowing he’d be there. Panic seized her as she felt her eyes well with tears. _What are you? What do you want with me?!_

 

Looking in the mirror she could see him, laughing. _“Oh, Ginevra, the plans I have, you couldn’t even imagine.”_

 


End file.
